Voltron Fanfiction and Art

It was just a given that a plan was going to go badly when Lance found himself as the voice of reason. Usually Keith was the stalwart voice of reason and logic, shooting holes in what sounded like a ton of fun with his… common sense. If Sven was the voice of reason, yeah, things might be okay.

But Sven wasn't here.

And Lance was trying to talk Keith down. And Hunk. And Pidge.

Because this just seemed like a really, really, really bad idea.

Lance didn't find it unusual when Keith was absent from the hanging out. Coran often found things for him to do, and hoops to jump through. Occasionally even Nanny corralled him for something. But usually the culprit was Allura. Lance had spied on them in the garden once, sitting on a bench, and hoping it would turn into something juicy.

Twenty minutes later when he realized they really were just talking, he skulked off.

When he came back three hours later, they were still talking. The subject had changed, with Allura now talking Arusian legends and fables instead of just naming off the flowers in the garden and when they bloom and what they mean, and Keith just as enthralled as earlier and asking a thousand questions like a child in the "why?" stage of life.

The two of them were really way too innocent for their own good. And for the entertainment of everyone else.

So, anyway, Keith missing wasn't too unusual.

But Keith missing AND Hunk and Pidge missing? That was suspect.

Lance managed to track them down in the repair bay, huddled back in a corner. Keith was kneeling beside the box they surrounded, and they were bickering in the hissed, hushed tones that gave away that they were trying to keep something secret.

The hell was going on now?

"…as long as Nanny doesn't find out, we're okay… I think." Keith shifted, holding something to his chest with one hand, and reaching into the box with the other.

Uh oh… if Keith was conspiring against Nanny…

"Do I even want to know, guys?"

All three jumped and whirled around, and now Lance could see the furry grey bundle Keith held cuddled to his chest. Pidge also had one in his arms.

"What—"

The ball in Pidge's arms unrolled and glared up at Lance with beady black eyes.

Oh bloody hell.

Lance continued to stare at the… thing… and it stared back.

"Where did you get that—them?" Lance realized there were more in the box, tumbling around Keith's hand, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. Keith picked another one up and held it in his arms with the first, letting them cuddle against his chest.

"I rescued them."

"From where?"

"The stables. The farrier was going to kill them." Keith rubbed his face against the soft fur, "He was pulling them out of a nest at the back of a stall and putting them in a sack. I asked him what he was going to do with them, and he said he'd take them down to the river and drown them. I couldn't let him just…" One of the furballs crawled up Keith's arm to perch on his shoulder, snuggling against his neck, "He said they're fishercats."

Fuck cats. Lance had never seen a cat like that before. But if they were anything like what they resembled…

"And you guys are going to keep these things?"

"Why not? We can't find the mama, and they're just babies." Pidge piped as his furball pawed at his glasses, long tail curling around his arm, "They'll die without us."

Lance considered launching into a speech about nature taking its course, etc. He'd grown up on a farm, and while things dying were sad, it was a part of life. But here he was staring at three city-raised boys, two of whom were borderline tree-huggers…

"I don't think they're quite weaned yet, but they do have –OW—teeth." Keith winced as one of the hairballs nipped his ear, "And claws. I figure we can get some milk, and if we can't find a bottle, we can soak a cloth in it…"

"And which one of you is going to be mama? No, let me guess. You're planning on taking turns, right? You know you can't just pass them around, right?" Lance folded his arms, wanting even less to do with it when he got a sea of blank stares.

"Well, we—" Hunk began.

"You'll stress them to death if you keep moving them around and changing 'parents'. They need to bond to ONE person." He watched his friends look from one to the other… then to him as the clear font of knowledge on fostering baby animals, "No." They went back to looking at each other. Finally Keith sighed in resignation.

"Fine. I'll do it, then, since I rescued them in the first place. I'll work up a feeding schedule." He looked down in the box, then back up at Lance, "There's seven of them. Do you want one when they grow up? I figure we can each keep at least o—"

"I want NOTHING to do with them. You guys are on your own."

Lance turned and walked away, leaving three bewildered lion pilots watching his back hunch as he stalked towards the door. A little pang of guilt rose up in Lance's chest as he heard the whispering starting up, and Hunk cooing and babytalking. Lance hadn't really meant to sound cold or mean, he just… well...